Sherlock's Birthday
by ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: "Of course Molly, dear, loyal, infatuated Molly, would remember his birthday." Baby Watson is born on Sherlock's birthday and Sherlock feels a little left out. One-Shot. COMPLETE.


**With the new promotional pictures from Sherlock series 4, I thought I would post this story that I wrote a while ago.**

 **Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **It can be seen as Sherlolly if you want to read it that way.**

Sherlock's Birthday

"Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" Sherlock inquired as he exited his bedroom, clad only in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a bedsheet, to find Molly Hooper in the sitting room of 221B, an inverted carrier bag clutched in her right hand. It wasn't that he was trying to get rid of her, he was genuinely surprised to find her in his flat and confused as to why she was here with him and not at the hospital with John and Mary.

Sherlock had been awoken by a text message in the early hours of the morning. It was a very frantic, and no doubt exhausted, John alerting him to the fact that his heavily pregnant wife had gone into labour with their little girl.

Sherlock was elated that his little god daughter was _finally_ coming into the world.

But it was 4am on the morning of January 6th that he received the text message. The morning of Sherlock's 35th birthday.

There wasn't even a note on the message that told Sherlock he was wanted at the hospital for the birth of the Watson's little girl. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but being there for such a remarkable event would have been the best birthday present that Sherlock could think of.

He had anticipated that all of the attention would be on the new born, so seeing Molly in his flat that afternoon had left him a little dumbfounded.

"It's not important that I'm there, Sherlock," Molly informed him, "I would only be in the way. Besides, we have some celebrating to do."

"Do we?" Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

"You don't turn 35 every day, Sherlock, do you?" Molly smiled softly at the detective and Sherlock felt himself reciprocating it.

Of course Molly, dear, loyal, _infatuated_ Molly, would remember his birthday.

The pathologist held out the carrier bag to the detective and Sherlock's frown returned as he took it, peering in. Inside the bag was a number of wrapped gifts, all with him as the intended recipient.

And all in Molly's handwriting.

"Happy Birthday, Sherlock." Molly smiled as he sat down in his black chair to open the gifts. "And there's something else." She disappeared into the hallway and returned with a white box that Sherlock knew had come from Mrs. Hudson's bakery.

She placed it carefully in his lap and watched as he opened it.

Sitting in the centre of the box was a beautifully designed, and probably very expensive, chocolate cake. It was triple chocolate (chocolate sponge filled with chocolate cream, topped with chocolate icing and a light drizzle of chocolate sauce) with raspberries placed evenly around the base of the cake.

Sherlock looked up from the cake, a twinkle in his eyes as his face broke into a large, genuine grin which overtook the look of momentary surprise.

"Thank you," Sherlock whispered, the words feeling foreign on his lips.

"I've ordered your favourite from Angelo's for dinner. Can the cake wait until after you've eaten?"

Another soft smile graced her features and she reached out to ruffle the consulting detective's curls, knowing that she would certainly not have been allowed to do so had Sherlock not been so touched by his birthday surprise.

There was a lump in Sherlock's throat and tears collecting in the corners of his eyes as he regarded Molly.

This wonderful, lovely woman had not only remembered his birthday but had gone out of her way in order to make it special for him.

He knew that the cake would not have been cheap. Nor would his presents.

She removed the cake from his lap and placed it on the kitchen table, taking it from the box so that it was sitting, ready and waiting for him by the time he'd finished eating.

"Do you think they've forgotten?" Sherlock questioned when the pathologist re-entered the living room. He signalled for her to join him on the sofa where he must have moved to as she entered the kitchen.

"I think they've had a lot of excitement today," Molly noted as they sat side-by-side, "and I'm fairly certain that they'll be in contact with you once everything has settled down. Just think of it this way, Sherlock," Molly smiled, "they might not have wished you happy birthday directly, but they certainly brought you a wonderful gift."

Sherlock didn't think that he could remember ever feeling like this. He was happy to the point of being content and, with Molly by his side – more than happy to share a meal and watch a documentary (that others would find extremely boring) – he had never felt more accepted and loved.

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


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